


Yo Ho

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Sterek New Year's Extravaganza [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Pirates, Asshole Jackson, Gen, Pirate Derek Hale, pre-Sterek - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-26 13:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13236681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: “I can help you. I’m very useful,” Stiles promised, Captain Hale leaning forward again to grab his tankard, feet still propped on the table.“I can think of a few uses for you, but most I can do before we set sail.”Stiles scowled while Captain Hale laughed, clacking his tankard against one of his other crewmates’ drink and taking a large swallow.(SNYE - January 4th - Historical AU)





	Yo Ho

**Author's Note:**

> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis

Stiles Stilinski had never wanted to be a pirate. His father was a kind, respectable man of the Navy, and he had always thought that he would follow in his footsteps. He was bad at following rules, but he knew the Navy wasn’t all about rules all the time. He’d heard stories from his father, of adventures and fun, travelling to distant lands, finding new worlds.

That had always been Stiles’ dream. To join the Navy and travel the seas, like his father.

But, life didn’t always work out that way. His father’s battalion had been attacked during one of their long sea voyages, and when Stiles had discovered it had been pirates who had sunk the ship, he had decided that he was going to make them pay for everything they had taken from him.

The Navy didn’t approve of revenge, so he didn’t last long, but he only needed to learn to sail, and they had given him enough to make do. He found his way to a port near the more dangerous areas of the shore and started asking around about pirates. Nobody would speak to him, likely assuming he worked for the Crown, but he eventually found his way into a rundown tavern where people were laughing loudly and drinking ale and rum.

Gripping his satchel more tightly, he wandered between the men, looking around for something that would lead him in the right direction. He didn’t know what he was looking for, just that he would know it when he saw it, so he milled about between the tables and ignored the lecherous words escaping some of the sailor’s mouths.

It always surprised him how some people didn’t care who they called out to, so long as the person was attractive.

When he got closer to the back of the pub, his eyes landed on a man who looked every bit the pirate Stiles had ever heard of. He wore a black Captain’s hat atop a head of black hair, with a scraggly beard and some golden teeth. His black boots were up on the table, and there were two swords and a dagger at his belt.

He was sitting with a quiet but imposing black man, and a loud and energetic blond. The Captain was laughing loudly at something the blond was saying, the sound booming through the tavern and making Stiles feel as though the floor were shaking.

Tightening his hold on his satchel, he approached the table and stood right beside the Captain, who was pointedly ignoring him. His two crewmates weren’t, but they didn’t seem to deem him a threat.

“Good day,” Stiles said, the Captain calming from his raucous laughter and turning to eye him.

“What can I do ya for?” the Captain asked, taking a sip from his tankard while giving Stiles a very deliberate once-over.

“I’m looking to join a crew. Heard you were looking for some men.” He hadn’t, in fact, heard that but pirates were always looking for more men.

The Captain almost spat his drink out, but managed to swallow it before roaring with laughter again. His two crewmates, even the quiet one, also began to laugh.

Stiles scowled, not impressed with their reactions. People tended to react in that manner a lot when they saw him. He was fairly scrawny, and didn’t look like he could hold his own in a fight, but he was wicked fast and had a wit few could counter.

“I have enough men, I’d wager. Haven’t sunk low enough to call upon children and noblemen.”

He and the blond shared a look and chuckled before he took another sip from his tankard.

Stiles didn’t have time for this shit, he needed to join a crew and this seemed like the likeliest to take him, nevermind it was the only one obvious enough for him to spot.

“Are you still here?” the Captain asked, glancing back at Stiles.

“I’m not leaving,” he informed him.

The man put his drink down and gave Stiles another slow once-over before leaning back further in his seat, threatening to fall over.

“What’s your name, lad?”

“Stiles Stilinski. And yours?”

“Captain Hale.”

Instantly, acid burned up Stiles’ throat and his hands gripped his satchel like a lifeline. “Peter Hale?”

“Derek,” the Captain said, eying Stiles with more interest. “Reckon you’re looking for revenge on my uncle. I’ve got enough crew out for revenge against him, don’t need another.”

“I can help you. I’m very useful,” Stiles promised, Captain Hale leaning forward again to grab his tankard, feet still propped on the table.

“I can think of a few uses for you, but most I can do before we set sail.”

Stiles scowled while Captain Hale laughed, clacking his tankard against one of his other crewmates’ drink and taking a large swallow.

He promptly spat his drink out when the door opened and put his feet down, ducking his head so his hat hid his face. His two crewmates leaned in closer to one another across the table, trying to hide their Captain by feigning conversation.

Turning to see who had just entered, Stiles smirked, realizing this was the perfect opportunity for him to show his worth.

One of the Navy officers—Commander, by the looks of his medal pinned to his coat—had just entered the establishment with a handful of sailors. The man in the lead had a sword and pistol on his belt, both holstered, but the sailors all carried bayonets while they fanned out through the tavern.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” the Commander said with a drawl. “You seen this man?” He held up a poster and Stiles had to crane his neck to see it.

It looked like a sharper, cleaner, younger version of Captain Hale. Stiles hadn’t realized he was wanted, but he supposed he should’ve guessed. Most pirates were, and if this was really the nephew of the notorious Peter Hale, he probably had a steep price on his head.

“Can’t say I have,” the woman passing him with a tray of drinks said. “Maybe try the next tavern.”

“He’s wanted for crimes against the Crown,” the Commander said, raising his voice and holding the poster up higher, spinning in a circle. “There is a bounty on his head. If any of you vagrants were to assist with his arrest, we will see you well compensated.”

There was an uneasy silence, Stiles leaning back against the wall, watching Captain Hale sink lower and lower in his seat. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, finding him to be the most obvious idiot in the entire place.

Apparently, the Commander thought so, too. He turned when Captain Hale was sinking just a little lower and immediately made his way towards him.

“You. On your feet.”

Captain Hale held up one hand and shook his head, keeping his face turned downward so his hat hid as much of his features as possible.

“Looks like we found you, Lieutenant.”

Stiles’ eyebrows shot up, the Commander grabbing at Captain Hale’s arm and wrenching him from his seat. Stiles hadn’t known that the pirate used to be part of the Navy, but he supposed he should’ve guessed they all started somewhere. He himself had also started in the Navy, albeit briefly, and only to learn the basics for sailing.

Then again, this was his only chance to join a crew that might actually have him, so when the other crewmen in the tavern began to stand to defend their Captain, likely causing a lot of bloodshed and ruining Stiles’ clothes—he had limited clothing and blood was very difficult to get out of clothes—he threw back his head and began to laugh.

The Commander turned to him, surprised, while Captain Hale stared openly, eyebrows shooting up so high they disappeared past the rim of his hat.

“One moment,” Stiles insisted, continuing to laugh and shaking his head. He pretended to need a second to get himself back under control, then cleared his throat and motioned the Captain, looking at the Commander while he spoke. “Are you mad? You think this old, drunk fool is Lieutenant Derek Hale?”

Stiles stepped forward and snatched the poster from the man’s hand, then held it up beside Captain Hale’s face. The man looked murderous, but Stiles wasn’t worried. This wasn’t the first time he had to trick the higher ranks of the Navy. They were mostly idiots.

“Blimey, I wish I’d noticed sooner. Could’ve gotten a good price trying to pass my master off as this Lieutenant.”

“Master?” The Commander asked, scowling at him.

“Indeed. Sad story, really. Wife left him not two years ago. He’s been wanderin’ ever since, drunk and alone. Well, with me, but I hardly count. I just carry his belongings.” Stiles patted his satchel and offered the Commander a huge grin. “I don’t reckon his father would be too pleased to learn he was being carted away because of a resemblance to a Lieutenant. Man’s never fought a day in his life. Look at his sword.”

The Commander and Captain Hale both looked down at the sword at the same time, Stiles scoffing and patting the end of the hilt.

“It’s so rusted and dull he wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly with this. I let him keep it on him because it makes him feel important. Man never learned how to hold a sword properly. Ah, but it’s just as well, eh? Can hardly stand on his own with all the ale he’s been drinking.”

Stiles gave Captain Hale a pointed look, the man staring back at him in shock before seeming to clue in and leaning heavily against the Commander.

The man’s face twisted into a look of disgust at being used to hold a drunkard up and Stiles motioned Captain Hale before inching forward and wrapping the man’s arm around his shoulders, pulling his weight the other way. He was glad Captain Hale didn’t put _all_  his weight on him, or Stiles would’ve fallen over.

“Sorry for the trouble, but this isn’t the man you’re looking for. I wish it was, Lord knows I could use a vacation from this drunk idiot, but alas, you’ll have to continue your search elsewhere.”

The Commander gave Captain Hale a disgusted look, muttered something about him being a disgrace to his family, and motioned for his men to follow him out and search the next tavern.

Nobody spoke while they watched the sailors file out, and once the door closed behind the last of them, the entire tavern turned to look at Stiles.

Stiles, for his part, let go of Captain Hale and neatly stepped aside so that the man almost fell over right where he stood. He managed to keep his balance, twisting to fall into his chair, and then stared up at Stiles with new interest.

“That was fun,” Captain Hale said, grinning almost lecherously while picking up his tankard and taking a swallow.

“I told you I was useful.”

“Indeed.” Captain Hale set his drink down, eying Stiles for a few seconds longer before lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “Liam could use some help in the kitchens. I suppose we can make space for one more person looking to kill my uncle.”

“The more the merrier,” the blond by the Captain’s left said, raising his tankard before downing most of it.

“What did you say your name was again?” Captain Hale asked, pointing at Stiles.

“Stiles Stilinski.”

“Well, Stiles Stilinski,” Captain Hale motioned one of the barmaids over and pulled a tankard off her tray. He slammed it down on the table closest to where Stiles was standing, and grinned ferally. “Welcome to the Bloody Wolf.”

“A pirate’s life for me,” Stiles said, and picked up the tankard.

Somehow, he felt like the way the Captain was eying him was cause for concern, but at this point, he didn’t care. He was willing to do anything to kill Peter Hale, and if that meant he had to fuck a few pirates, so be it.

Stiles downed the tankard he held, slammed it back on the table, and took a seat in the closest available chair.

It was going to be a long, and interesting life.

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> A/N - I am so, so terrible at history, but I was determined to do all 31 prompts so this was the best I could come up with for this one... Sorry!


End file.
